"Have a seat," invited Roy, rising lazily to the dignity of his six
feet as Betty and Grace came up on the porch. "It would seem like old
times to see you girls perched on the railing."
"I'll have you know, sir," said Betty very demurely, as she pulled
Grace down beside her on the top step of the porch, "that we have
quite grown up since you have been away. We will sit here where we can
get a good view of you all."
"And we want to hear about everything you have done over there," broke
in Amy eagerly. "Please, everything-- right from the beginning."
The boys fidgeted, looked dismayed, and Roy burst forth in protest.
"Oh, I say!" he cried. "We'll do anything else for you, but please
don't ask us to do that."
"We don't want to talk about ourselves or the war," muttered Frank,
almost as if to himself. "We want to forget about it-- if we can."
"You see," Will explained, and there was a stern note in his young
voice, "we worked and we sweated and we fought. We lived under
conditions week after week and month after month that it makes us
shudder even to think of now.
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